


Surfacing

by fuzipenguin



Series: How To Train Your Twins [2]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, No actual sex, Other, Paddling, Roleplay, Self-Doubt, Sensory Deprivation, Spanking, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 21:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7070344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bluestreak has an alone session with Sunstreaker and ends up uncovering some deep-seated issues. Takes place before Bluestreak decides to train Sideswipe as a dom</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surfacing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fayola](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fayola/gifts).



> Commission fic - please contact me if you'd like something of your own commissioned!

                “Sideswipe said he can’t come,” Sunstreaker says in lieu of a greeting as he walks through the door. It shuts behind him with a soft chime as the lock engages automatically.

                Bluestreak sets his book file aside and looks up at the frontliner, frowning. “Oh? He didn’t comm me.”

                Typical really. Sideswipe was always resisting Bluestreak’s authority. Although… Sunstreaker had never before been alone with Bluestreak for a scheduled scene. Odd that Sideswipe had blown off their session considering how protective he was over his twin.  

                Sunstreaker waves vaguely in the direction of his chest. “He’s part of Jazz’s away group. They’re still on radio silence and now aren’t scheduled back until tonight.”

                “Oh, I see.” Well, that explained why Sideswipe hadn’t said anything to Bluestreak. A bond like what the twins had could certainly be handy, especially if they couldn’t use their comm system.

                “Are we still gonna have a session?” Sunstreaker asks, folding his arms over his bumper. He shifts his weight, from right foot to the left and back again, appearing uncertain. Obviously Bluestreak isn’t the only one mindful of Sideswipe’s absence.

                “That’s up to you, Sunny,” Bluestreak says gently. “I will if you want to. But if you’d rather reschedule until your brother’s here we could do that instead. Or we could spend some time together as friends… watch a movie or something.”

                Sunstreaker chews at his bottom lip for a moment before drawing himself up to his full height. “I want to do the session. I kinda want you to myself for a bit,” he says, optics shifting to the side in embarrassment. “I know how distracting Sideswipe can be and how much trouble he gives you.”

                “I wouldn’t say trouble,” Bluestreak says, pushing himself to his feet. His doorwings stretch out to the side, easing the ache in their hinges. “He just likes to test his boundaries. In the most infuriating ways possible.”

                He says it with a wry grin, one that Sunstreaker matches as they step towards one another, Sunstreaker’s hands falling to his sides.

                “Sometimes I’d like to set him over my knee and paddle some obedience into him.”

                Sunstreaker’s cooling fans click on with a telling whirl, and he licks his lower lip with a quick swipe of an agile glossa. “He’d probably enjoy it too much.”

                “Mm, he might at that. What about you?” Bluestreak purrs, reaching out and placing his hands on a golden waist. Sunstreaker’s engine is already rumbling excitedly, sending minute vibrations through Bluestreak’s fingers. “Would you like it if I did that to you? Do you deserve it? … have you been a bad boy?”

                “Yes, sir. Just ask Prowl or Ironhide. Or Optimus. Or Ratchet or…” Sunstreaker silences when Bluestreak cocks his head to the side and raises an orbital ridge. The golden twin ducks his head, looking up shyly through lowered optic shutters. “Sorry, sir.”

                “That’s a lot of people to ask, and I’m far too busy to track them all down to get a list of your transgressions. I’ll just take your word for it and combine individual punishments into one large one. It will be severe,” Bluestreak warns.

                “I can take it,” Sunstreaker boasts, although his optics are slightly narrowed in wariness as he says it. Bluestreak isn’t surprised; spanking is actually something new for them. Oh, Bluestreak has swatted their afts a time or two, but nothing official like this. And while Sunstreaker trusts Bluestreak, he often has to be reassuringly guided through new things until he feels more comfortable with how things are progressing.

                “Alright then. Wait there a moment. First pose please.”

                Bluestreak waits until Sunstreaker assumes the position: standing tall, optics looking forward, and hands clasped at the wrists behind his back. With an approving pat to Sunstreaker’s shoulder, Bluestreak walks over to his toy chest and pulls out several items. He lays some of them on the berth and then comes up behind Sunstreaker.

                “I’m putting the cuffs on you,” Bluestreak announces. “Give me your hands.”

                Sunstreaker unclasps his wrists, allowing Bluestreak to lock the metal bands in place. Sunstreaker flexes his arms, challenging the strength of the cuffs. He always tests his restraints, often telling Bluestreak if he thinks he’d be able to break through them. These are specially enforced though, a set Bluestreak has used before, and Sunstreaker lets his arms relax with a satisfied hum.

                “Very good. I don’t understand how you’re such a bad boy outside of these quarters,” Bluestreak muses, running a hand up Sunstreaker’s back and lightly gripping the nape of his neck. “You’re so good here.”

                Sunstreaker sighs, shoulders drooping. “I don’t know.”

                “Hm…. Well, I’ll discipline you now and then maybe you can start afresh. Come, let’s get you started.” Bluestreak applies pressure with his fingers and directs Sunstreaker forward towards the berth. Once there, Bluestreak reaches for the tangle of dark cloth that is lying innocuously on the bed. Sunstreaker curiously stares at it.

                “What is that, sir?”

                “A blindfold. Bend down please. You and your brother are too darn tall,” Bluestreak complains with a grin that belies his criticism.

                Sunstreaker stares nervously at Bluestreak’s hands before searching his face to confirm the instruction. When Bluestreak merely gazes back placidly, the frontliner huffs and dips down, putting his head in better reach.  

                “Don’t worry,” Bluestreak says softly, winding the cloth around Sunstreaker’s intricate helm fins and across his optics. “This won’t hurt.”

                “I know,” Sunstreaker snaps, a sure sign he’s moving out of his comfort zone.

                “Hush. No need to get testy,” Blustreak replies in a firm tone. “If you’re uncomfortable, you know what to tell me.”

                Sunstreaker’s optics are hidden behind trailing strips of cloth, but his downturned lips are still visible. They smooth out into an even line after a few moments. “I’m ok. Sir.”

                “That’s a good boy,” Bluestreak murmurs, resuming tightening the blind around Sunstreaker’s head. It’s awkward because of the other mech’s helm fins. Bluestreak wants the cloth to be tight and effective, but he also knows those vents are very important to Sunstreaker’s cooling system. And Bluestreak has plans to make Sunstreaker’s temperature rise this evening.

                Finally, the blindfold is secure. Sunstreaker is tense, but Bluestreak soothes gentle palms down Sunstreaker’s chest, going on pedetip to place a light kiss against Sunstreaker’s lips. 

                “Relax, Sunstreaker. Don’t I always take care of you?” Bluestreak questions, taking a step backwards until his legs bump into the berth. He drops down atop it and reaches out to direct Sunstreaker closer.

                “Yes, sir,” Sunstreaker admits, relaxing a fraction.

                “Of course I do. Even when I’m reprimanding you. Open, please,” Bluestreak requests, reaching out and knocking a knuckle against Sunstreaker’s modesty panel.

                It immediately transforms away, displaying a half-pressurized spike. In the shadows between Sunstreaker’s legs, Bluestreak sees the glisten of moisture surrounding the frontliner’s valve. The concept of spanking is apparently enough of a turn on to override Sunstreaker’s uneasiness.  

                “Thank you. There will be no overloading tonight, unless I say so. Is that understood?” Bluestreak questions.

                “Yes, sir. How would you like me, sir?” Sunstreaker questions, voice going soft.

                “Bend at the knees a little. That’s it, very good. All right, now just lean forward, I have you,” Bluestreak urges. Sunstreaker makes a quiet, uncertain noise, but does as Bluestreak asks. It takes some careful maneuvering, but Bluestreak eventually guides Sunstreaker down across Bluestreak’s widened knees, fitting neatly up under his bumper.

                Sunstreaker whimpers as he finally settles, no doubt feeling very precariously balanced. Bluestreak is large enough that Sunstreaker’s pedes don’t quite touch the floor on one side, and his head and chest dangle over Bluestreak’s opposite thigh. Using the cuffs as a handle, Bluestreak is reasonably sure he can keep Sunstreaker on his lap. As long as the other mech doesn’t thrash around.

                “You’re fine; I won’t let you fall. Are you comfortable?” Bluestreak asks. Then he immediately answers himself. “You know what? I don’t actually care. You’re the bad boy, after all. You’re here to be punished, not coddled. 40 ought to do it, don’t you think? Ten for each person that you named.”

                “Yes, sir,” Sunstreaker whispers, barely audible. He’s trembling just a little, and Bluestreak reassuringly soothes a palm over Sunstreaker’s rear end.

                “You will count for me. Begin,” Bluestreak instructs, lightly slapping Sunstreaker’s upturned aft. It’s a relatively gentle hit yet Sunstreaker still yelps and flinches. He rocks a little in Bluestreak’s lap and he spreads his feet wider, distributing Sunstreaker’s weight more evenly.

                “O… one,” Sunstreaker says, giving a mighty shiver.

                Bluestreak caresses the back of Sunstreaker’s closest thigh. “Good. I will not be this gentle throughout,” he warns. He immediately hits Sunstreaker again, a little harder.

                “Two! Yes, sir.”

                Three through twelve go without a hitch and Sunstreaker starts minutely arching into each smack. So Bluestreak begins hitting him harder and adding commentary which makes the roleplay a little more realistic.

                “Ngh… thirteen...”

                “I’ve heard stories, you know. About the things you’ve done,” Bluestreak says nonchalantly.

                “-fourteen-“

                “How you’ve made fun of your comrades –“

                “-fiffffteen-“

                “- the pranks you’ve pulled with your brother that embarrassed the recipients-“

                “-sixteen-“

                “-not just embarrassed them, but actually hurt them too. That’s disappointing, Sunstreaker,” Bluestreak idly mentions. “Very disappointing.”

                “-seven… seventeen. Sorry… I’m sorry, sir!” Sunstreaker gasps.

                “Are you?” Bluestreak pauses and strokes a particularly warm spot on Sunstreaker’s rear end. “I don’t know if I can believe you. I’ve personally seen how cruel you can be.”

                “Ah! Eighteen-“

                “You’ve been cruel to friends of mine-“

                “-nineteen-“

                “-you’ve disrespected our leaders. They’ve worked hard, you know –“

                “- twentyahhh!”

                “Don’t you agree that they’ve worked hard? To keep you and your brother and all the rest of us alive?” Bluestreak questions, bringing his hand down as firmly as he can. He’d been getting progressively more rough, leading up to the paddle which is lying by his side. It takes quite a lot for Sunstreaker to truly feel plain because of his reinforced plating.

                And Bluestreak’s hand is getting sore.

                “Yes, sir, they have, sir!” Sunstreaker cries out, writhing a little.

                Bluesetreak reaches for the paddle and rubs the surface of it across Sunstreaker’s aft. His ventilations catch at the new sensation and he automatically tenses.

                “Why are you so bad?” Bluestreak despairs and brings the heavy metal toy down against Sunstreaker’s plating with a satisfactory ‘clang’.

                Sunstreaker jerks and produces a small scream, the loudest he’s ever been in a session. Staring in surprise at the back of the warrior’s bent helm, Bluestreak pauses a moment to let Sunstreaker adjust to the new sensation.  

                “I’m waiting for a number, Sunstreaker…” Bluestreak finally says warningly, when the silence stretches.

                “Tttwenty… on..one…” Sunstreaker’s voice is unsteady and Bluestreak waits a few more moments in case Sunstreaker is overwhelmed enough to speak the safeword. He doesn’t say anything else however, so Bluestreak administers another blow.  

                Sunstreaker’s plating flares and then clamps down tight, his body shuddering. “Twen… twenty-two. I’m sorry, sir.”

                Bluestreak brings the paddle down on the exact same spot once more and the golden twin grunts through gritted denta. “I’m bad, sir… so bad… twenty… thhreeargh!” Sunstreaker cries out as Bluestreak follows up almost immediately with another hit.

                “Four! Twenty-four! Please!”

                The paddle lands again, Bluestreak’s lap beginning to turn uncomfortably warm from all the heat Sunstreaker is putting off.

                “Please what, Sunstreaker?” Bluestreak asks mildly, placing the paddle on Sunstreaker’s lower back and slipping a hand between spread golden thighs. He’s a little surprised not to find Sunstreaker dripping by now, as he had seemed excited when they had begun. Instead Bluestreak’s fingers encounter a barely moistened valve rim.

                “Twenty-five… please, more. I’m bad, I deserve it,” Sunstreaker whimpers.

                Bluestreak takes ahold of the paddle again and hits Sunstreaker high atop his nearest thigh. The mech keens, writhing, and Bluestreak has a hard time keeping hold of him.

                “Twenty sssix…so bad… so bad… I’m sorry, sir…”

                Optics narrowing, Bluestreak hits his lover again in the same spot, even harder. The smack rings out in the room, accompanied by Sunstreaker choking back another shriek. He also flails again, and Bluestreak growls in irritation. He likes the position, the feeling of instability it invokes, but Sunstreaker is simply too large to be moving around this much.

                Bluestreak tugs on Sunstreaker’s cuffs, making him moan softly. “Straighten up a little. You’re killing my knees and I need to get better positioned.”

                Sunstreaker arches his back and lifts his legs, and Bluestreak carefully scoots backwards across the berth, bringing the other mech with him until Sunstreaker’s knees rest at the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, sir,” Sunstreaker whispers. “I’m such a bother, I’m sorry.”

                “Put your head back down,” Bluestreak instructs, waiting until Sunstreaker’s forehelm meets the berth surface. “Good. That’s good. Now I can hit you harder and not have to worry about you falling off.”

                Sunstreaker keens again, his aft wriggling enticingly. “Please, sir! Please hit me harder!”

                Well, he might not be getting physically aroused, but the spanking is definitely doing _something_ for Sunstreaker. Bluestreak continues, raining back to back blows across Sunstreaker’s aft and upper thighs.

                Around the thirty third strike, Sunstreaker forgets his count. Babbling near incoherently, he pleads for Bluestreak to forgive him, rocking in distress atop Bluestreak’s lap. He even asks to start over, making Bluestreak frown.

                “That’s not necessary. It was thirty-three, Sunstreaker. Don’t mess up again,” Bluestreak commands, bringing the paddle down with a lighter tap. Sunstreaker was going to need a repaint at this rate.

                “Yyyesss…. Sssiir…” Sunstreaker stutters. “Please, more. Please…don’t stop.”

                “Why shouldn’t I stop, Sunstreaker?” Bluestreak asks, lightly popping Sunstreaker’s rear end with Bluestreak’s bare palm, if only so he can stroke the heated plating, searching for deep wounds. The frontliner was no stranger to pain and sometimes Bluestreak had to rein the other mech in before any true damage actually occurred. A spanking, even with a paddle, wasn’t going to leave any lasting injury but it was always better to be safe than sorry.

                “Because I’m bad. I’m wrong!” Sunstreaker cries out. “Thirty… thirty-four?”

                “Yes, good. What’s next?” Bluestreak demands, a tingle of unease running through his lines.

                He swats Sunstreaker with his hand again and then immediately slides two fingers down to Sunstreaker’s valve entrance. It’s now dry.

                “Thirty-five,” Sunstreaker whimpers, subtly canting his pelvis downward, out of Bluestreak’s reach.

                “What do you mean, you’re wrong? Keep counting,” Bluestreak instructs. He lands three more blows, pausing to squeeze Sunstreaker’s nearest upper thigh after the last hit. It’s an attempt to ground the other mech, but Bluestreak is starting to think his partner is too far gone for that.

                “Thirty-six… thirty-seven… oh, Primus… thirty-eight… please don’t stop, sir!”

                “Why are you wrong?” Bluestreak repeats, digging his thumb into a scorching transformation seam on the side of Sunstreaker’s thigh.

                He gasps, neck arching. “I shouldn’t be here!”

                Bluestreak studies the back of Sunstreaker’s helm, frowning. Definitely not the direction Bluestreak had wanted to take when he had started this scene. Nevertheless, it’s an opportunity for him to gain a little insight into the tangled mess of Sunstreaker’s psyche. “What do you mean by that?”

                “People like Sideswipe. He was meant… to be a full spark. Mine was defective… breaking away…” Sunstreaker moans, fingers clenching into fists at his lower back. “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t even be al…”

                “Quiet!” Bluestreak’s voice is like a whipcrack and Sunstreaker immediately falls silent, his only sounds the rasp of overworked vents.

                “I think I know what you were about to say next, and it’s incorrect. There is nothing wrong with you, Sunstreaker,” Bluestreak chides.

                “Then why are you punishing me?” Sunstreaker wails.  

                Bluestreak smacks Sunstreaker’s upper thighs, making the other mech whimper out a very small ‘thirty-nine’.

                “Because you did bad things. Not because you _are_ bad. Do you think I would waste my time on someone who was evil at spark?” Bluestreak asks, thinking fast. He has to be very careful here or he could make things so much worse.

                Sunstreaker doesn’t speak for several moments before he finally shakes his head. “I… I don’t know…”

                “Well, I wouldn’t.” Bluestreak brings his hand down a final time, right over the hottest section of plating covering Sunstreaker’s rear end. The golden twin sobs out ‘forty’ and then buries his face into the berth coverings.

                Scooting backwards even more, Bluestreak manages to squirm out from under Sunstreaker’s weight. He kneels by the other mech’s side and quickly unlocks the cuffs, tossing them onto the floor. Sunstreaker’s wrists are carefully massaged, Bluestreak checking over the joints for signs of stress. Sunstreaker lets him without protest, limp and shuddering.

                “I wouldn’t do this,” Bluestreak murmurs. “If I was hurting you because I thought you were truly bad, I wouldn’t examine you for damage afterwards.”

                He bends and presses a kiss against each of Sunstreaker’s palms, one by one. This prompts another muffled sob from Sunstreaker and Bluestreak indulgently smiles at the tense gold shoulders. He gently lays Sunstreaker’s arms by his sides, and turns to his rear end. Bluestreak looks for damage here too, with careful, exploratory fingers that are much more thorough than his earlier check.

                “I wouldn’t treat you for damage either,” Bluestreak adds. He removes the tube of nanite gel he had tossed into his subspace earlier and carefully applies several globs of it to Sunstreaker’s aft, gently rubbing it in.

                “How does that feel?” Bluestreak asks after he is finished. Sunstreaker had twitched during the entire process but now he lays still again.

                “It… it burns a little,” Sunstreaker replies, turning his head to the side just enough to expose his mouth.

                “Good. Hopefully it will remind you that others can be hurt through your actions. But the sting will fade over time… it won’t always be there to remind you. If you need another reminder though…”

                Sunstreaker shudders, his hands clenching into fists again. “I don’t… I…”

                Gripping him by the shoulders, Bluestreak carefully rolls Sunstreaker unto his back and proceeds to remove the blindfold. “I like you a lot, Sunny. I wouldn’t spend time with you if I didn’t like you. And I definitely wouldn’t waste my time reprimanding you if I didn’t see good in you that needs to be better directed. Look at me,” he commands.

                Finally freed of the confining cloth, Sunstreaker cracks open his optic shutters and looks up into Bluestreak’s face with a hazy stare. “I… Sir?”

                “People like Sideswipe because he works at _making_ them like him. He can be just as cruel as you, and sometimes even more so because he plays the long game,” Bluestreak explains. “And despite that, I like him too, which is why he’s in the sessions as well. You two have beautiful, _good_ sparks, and neither one of you are defective. It was an act of Primus that created you both, not anything you did at unfurling. Do you believe me?”

                Propped up on one hand, Bluestreak stares earnestly down at Sunstreaker, willing him to believe Bluestreak’s words. Every one of them are true, after all.

                Sunstreaker’s lips part, the lower one quivering just the smallest amount. Then he nods, blinking rapidly. He makes a motion to reach out to Bluestreak but then withdraws his hands, looking uncertain. Bluestreak grabs one of them and then falls back onto the berth, tugging Sunstreaker towards him.

                “Come here, love,” Bluestreak instructs, opening his arms for Sunstreaker. Surprisingly, the other mech climbs atop Bluestreak instead of curling up into his side. Bluestreak automatically parts his legs, cradling Sunstreaker’s lower body as he settles, face tucking into the side of Bluestreak’s neck.

                Bluestreak takes the opportunity to slide his hands down Sunstreaker’s back, stroking him over and over and feeling the larger mech slowly relax into the touches.

                “Maybe one day, you’ll let me see your spark,” Bluestreak muses, craning his neck to press a chaste kiss to Sunstreaker’s cheek.

                “It’s small… ugly… “

                “I haven’t even seen it yet, and I know that’s not true,” Bluestreak insists. “This was only a scene, Sunstreaker. Role play. You don’t deserve to be punished just for _existing_. For throwing Cliff through a wall maybe…” he admits.

                Sunstreaker shudders again, burrowing even closer. Bluestreak lets him and continues to pet him and kiss wherever Bluestreak can reach. He even brings his knees up, squeezing Sunstreaker’s hips to give him the impression that Bluestreak has encompassed the other mech as much as possible.

                “You’re a good spark,” Bluestreak murmurs. “You’re my friend, my lover, and I value you. You’re strong, and smart, and talented, and I’m proud to know you. You deserve every happiness, and I’m so glad you and your brother are alive. Neither one of you are perfect… you’re flawed, yes, but you’re not evil. You have a good spark…”

                Bluestreak keeps up a steady litany of praises and endearments, whispering the words against Sunstreaker’s audial as he trembles atop Bluestreak. The poor mech shakes his head every now and then at a particular phrase or description, but Bluestreak just repeats it all the more, doing his best to drill the sentiments into Sunstreaker’s stubborn helm.

                Hours pass. Bluestreak’s doorwings are complaining and his voice is hoarse by the time Sunstreaker’s systems finally power down into recharge mode. Bluestreak isn’t certain that Sunstreaker believes everything that was said, but after a while, he had stopped flinching away from certain compliments and just lay quiescent, listening.

                It’s the best that Bluestreak can do for now. Later, they’ll have to talk more, likely tailor their upcoming sessions a bit differently. Sunstreaker’s issues have always simmered beneath the surface, and it’s been a balancing act to explore them in a healthy way. Bluestreak isn’t certain he accomplished that tonight.

                He thinks about chatting with Ratchet regarding the twins. The medic has defused more than one emotional situation involving the brothers, and he knows them even better than Bluestreak does. He might have some insights as to how to maneuver around or safely role play some of Sunstreaker’s insecurities.

                Making a note to reach out to Ratchet as soon as Bluestreak wakes, he initiates his own recharge protocols, getting as comfortable as he can beneath Sunstreaker’s bulk. Why had he ever taken up with such hulking specimens in the first place?

\--

                He doesn’t know what wakes him, but one moment he’s asleep and the next, he clawing upwards towards consciousness, battle protocols making his fingers itch for his gun.

                “Chill out,” a low voice whispers by the bedside and Bluestreak forces his optics online. A familiar gaze meet his, and Bluestreak ex-vents heavily in relief.

                “Sideswipe.”

                The frontliner quirks a grin at him and then nods at Sunstreaker, now curled on his side with his head resting on Bluestreak’s chest. “Came to get my brother.”           

                Bluestreak looks down at Sunstreaker’s frame, noting how slowly he ventilated. He was deeply asleep and could certainly use more uninterrupted rest. “Oh… he can stay here. I don’t mind.”

                “I do. Sunny, wake up, bro. It’s time to go back to our room,” Sideswipe says, raising his voice and gently shaking Sunstreaker’s shoulder.

                “Sideswipe –“

                But then Sunstreaker is stirring, grumbling a protest as he stretches.

                “You both can stay, if you want,” Bluestreak offers, hesitant to release Sunstreaker after he had had such an emotional upheaval earlier.

                **Kinda don’t want to be anywhere near you right now,** is Sideswipe’s reply over a private comm line, making Bluestreak’s lines run cold. Sideswipe’s voice is frosty even as he gently starts to roll Sunstreaker toward him.

                **What? Why do you say that?**

                **You tell me. He was with _you_ when he started apologizing to me for even existing, saying I would have been better off without him.** Sideswipe’s glaring now and Bluestreak realizes Sideswipe’s earlier smile had only been a mask.

                Damnit. Bluestreak should have known that Sunstreaker’s reaction wouldn’t have been confined to him alone.

                **We were roleplaying – I was spanking him, telling him that he had been bad for getting into trouble with Prowl and some others. He went too deep into the scene before I realized it. He took everything I said and… _extrapolated_ on it. I’m sorry, Sideswipe. It wasn’t what I intended at all, and I should have caught it sooner,** Bluestreak replies, once more feeling that guilty lurch in his spark. He is supposed to care for his submissives, not make underlying issues worse.

                Sunstreaker groggily sits up, unaware of the conversation taking place around him. He blinks sleepily first at Bluestreak and then his brother. “Are we going?” Sunstreaker asks, wiping a hand over his face.

                “Yeah, bro. Our bed’s bigger. You can sprawl out better,” Sideswipe replies, reaching out and cupping his twin’s cheek. “And I want to take a look at that hot aft of yours too.  I heard it got some attention today.”

                “Blue spanked me,” Sunstreaker offers in a simple, sparkling-like manner. Still disorientated, he sways slightly as he swings his feet over the edge of the bed. Both Bluestreak and Sideswipe steady him, Sideswipe’s lip lifting a little at Bluestreak’s hand on Sunstreaker’s shoulder. “Because I’m bad. No…” he pauses and corrects himself. “Because I did bad things. I’m not wrong… right? That’s what Blue said, anyway.”

                Bluestreak’s ventilations catch and he bites his lower lip as elation soars through him. Apparently he had gotten through to Sunstreaker after all!

                There’s a beat of silence before Sideswipe surges upward from his squat, enfolding Sunstreaker in a tight hug. “Oh, baby… yeah, he’s right,” he chokes out, a pained expression on his face as he stares at Bluestreak over Sunstreaker’s shoulder. “You’re not wrong in the slightest. I love you just the way you are.”

                “Even when I throw minibots through the walls and get us landed in the brig?” Sunstreaker murmurs in question.

                Sideswipe pushes out of the hug, crouching back down between his brother’s legs. Sideswipe’s hands unconsciously wrap around Sunstreaker’s calves, maintaining contact between the two of them. The red twin’s lips quiver a little before they curve upwards, his expression easily slipping into one of honest devotion. “Even then.”

                “He said it was an act of Primus that we separated, not something I did,” Sunstreaker adds, voice starting to lose some of its sleepy haze. He sounds as if he’s offering a suggestion instead of stating an idea, and some of Bluestreak’s joy subsides a bit. Sunstreaker still has a ways to go, apparently.

                Sideswipe’s gaze flicks over to Bluestreak before landing back on Sunstreaker’s face once more. “You know what? I kinda don’t care one way or another. If you did it? Great. Did Primus? That’s cool too. Maybe _I_ did it. Regardless, the end result is that I have you. No matter how we got here, at the end of the day, you’re stuck with me, bro. And I’m happy to be here.”

                Sunstreaker is silent for a second before he gives his twin a spark-breaking little smile. “There are worse people.”

                Grinning, Sideswipe launches himself at his brother, both of them toppling back onto the berth and halfway atop Bluestreak. For several moments, all Bluestreak can see are brightly colored limbs until they roll further down the bed, Bluestreak moving his feet out of the way to make room for them to tussle.

                “ _Yeah_ , there are. Can you imagine sharing a spark with _Tracks_?” Sideswipe demands, running his hands down Sunstreaker’s sides and making him squirm.

                “Stop it!” Sunstreaker whines, batting at Sideswipe’s shoulders. It’s more play than anything, and Bluestreak smiles happily at the brothers’ antics. “He would steal my wax all the time and never…”

                As Sunstreaker trails off into a diatribe, Sideswipe speaks over the still open communication line he has with Bluestreak. **That offer for both of us to stay still open?**

 **Of course. You’re always welcome, both of you,** Bluestreak replies, daring to reach out and squeeze Sideswipe’s shoulder. He looks up at Bluestreak, optics intense as he searches Bluestreak’s face.

                **Thanks. For telling him those things. It’s good for him hear it from someone other than me** , Sideswipe says, dropping his gaze and refocusing in on his twin. **And sorry… ‘bout earlier.**

 **Apology accepted. But don’t ever stop giving me feedback - I never want to drive a wedge between you two,** Bluestreak replies earnestly.

                **Yeah, I know. You’re a good guy, Blue. But it’s been a long while since we really had a friend that accepted us as we are,** Sideswipe admits. **We’re still getting used to it.**

                Bluestreak’s spark aches again and he gives into the urge to throw himself on top of the twins, sprawling over the two of them. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker both grunt at the extra added weight, but soon enough there are two different arms winding around his waist in a tight squeeze.  

                **Well, I’ll be here until you do,** Bluestreak promises.

 

~ End 


End file.
